Arthur Washed His Own Socks Day: The Origins
by Gingeraffealene
Summary: While Merlin is in recovery and George is away, Arthur takes some initiative. Shocking, yes, and definitely a cause for celebration. Some lighthearted crack to celebrate 1917farmgirl's birthday. Seriously, this is pretty darn cracky. Happy Birthday!


**A/N: **The original title of this bit of fun was "Birthday Thingy" because it was a little something I wrote as a birthday present for farmgirl last year. I wanted to do something nice for my sweet writer friend again this year but RL has not been obliging. So I'm posting it as a second best option and I encourage you all to send your very best wishes to farmgirl, aka Angst Queen. She's a hard-workin' gal who's brought us some of the most heart rending stories in this fandom.

Happy Birthday, my friend! I hope this year is an awesome one with loads more time for you to write your heart out!

**Arthur Washed His Own Socks Day: The Origins**

Consciousness approached and Merlin inhaled slowly. He and Arthur had lately returned from being in one of Farmgirl's stories and recovery had required a significant amount of time. He'd been tortured both emotionally and physically, but his wounds had been magically aided in their healing, and a healthy amount of bromance had done him much good as well. A slight shifting met his ears which prompted a swifter awakening. He inhaled deeply again, enjoying the scent of ..flowers?

"Merlin?"

Merlin groggily opened his bleary, blue eyes to see the king leaning over him, looking somewhat disheveled. He glanced around past the king and groaned. "This all seems familiar."

Arthur chuckled as Merlin groaned painfully again.

"We've been through this many times before, but this is the first time you ever brought me flowers, Arthur."

"What? I think you're still a bit fuzzy in the head Merlin. There are no flowers. But _finally_! You're awake! Gaius and Gingeraffealene gave up hope that you would survive that AU, but I never doubted."

"Ugh…" Merlin struggled to pull himself into a sitting position, still glancing persistently about, searching for the source of the floral fragrance. "How long was I out? What is today?"

"You've been sleeping for five days. Today is precisely one week after the May Day Festival."

"I've been sleeping for five days?"

He groaned.

"I'm sorry. But I still feel pretty weak. George'll have to keep serving you until I build up my strength again."

"Oh, don't worry. Everything is taken care of, but George isn't around. I knew you were going to be fine so I refused to get a new manservant."

"You didn't replace me?"

"Of course not, idiot." He ruffled Merlin's dark hair fondly. "It's been an inconvenience, but I managed just fine on my own. I sent George on patrol with the knights to punish them for mocking me. My chambers are rather a mess, but you can set things to rights with your magic easily enough. There's no need to worry over the washing, though. I managed to keep up with my laundry."

Merlin's eyebrows rose. "_You_ kept up on your laundry?"

"Well, actually Gwen gathered up my laundry and sent it with hers to the laundress. But I did my own socks! And it's not nearly as hard as you always claimed!"

"Wait. Waitwaitwait. You... _you, Arthur Pendragon, _washed your _own_ socks?!"

Merlin's eyebrows climbed into the Gaiusphere.

"Of course I did! I couldn't let Guinevere deal wi..." Arthur's mouth snapped shut.

"You admit it then! You _do_ know how bad your socks are! You were protecting your wife and your reputation!"

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far.." Arthur began to defend himself but Merlin ranted right over the top of him.

"Why do you think Destiny had to send _The Immortal Emrys_ to be your _manservant_?! Your socks are so toxic that were you ever to lose Excalibur you'd still have weapons capable of the mass destruction of undead armies! The only drawback would be that as soon as you began flaunting them you'd have to deal with a major influx of trolls irresistibly drawn into Camelot by that distinctive 'come hither' smell. Of course they'd leave the gold and jewels because they'd be so enamored with your socks and feet.."

"_Mer_lin! Would you please shut up. I'm trying to enjoy the respite from our most recent angst-fest and you are ruining the moment." He rubbed his hands over his face then squeezed his friend's shoulder. "Get back to work when you're one hundred percent better and not a moment before."

Merlin smiled, wonder still lingering in his eyes, and nodded off again.

Two days later Merlin appeared chipper and only a bit worse for wear in the royal chambers. He magically swished the curtains open and chirped, "Up and at 'em, Sire!" while Arthur predictably rolled over in his bed. He hummed off key and clattered about being as noisy and annoying as possible. Arthur grimaced into his pillow.

"There it is again!"

"Whaf?" came the muffled query of the king.

"That flower smell. It can't be from the ones on the table; they're dead."

"Maybe your nose has ceased to function."

"Perhaps. Or maybe everything just smells so much better since I haven't had to face your filthy socks."

Merlin moved to the wardrobe where clothing was haphazardly hung and was poking through the crack of the door. He straightened the hangers then moved to the dresser drawers that were suffering the same condition. As he pulled open the sock drawer the pukingly overwhelming scent of flowers perfumed the entire room.

"Gah! Ack! Arthur! What did you do?!" The warlock whipped around, eyes streaming, a pair of socks pinched between his thumb and forefinger and held at a distance.

"What are you talking about now, _Mer_lin."

"Your socks! What did you do?!"

"I told you I washed them!"

"_How_ did you wash them?"

" After I took a bath I just dipped them in the water and wrung them out a few times. Then I put soap on them and laid them out to dry by the fire."

"You put soap on them and didn't rinse them out?"

"No Merlin. I have come up with my own method of laundering my socks. It is clearly superior to yours. I leave the soap in the socks and then it keeps my feet cleaner while I wear them. And, admittedly, everything smells better."

"Wait. You didn't use the soap from the laundry, did you."

"No. I used some of the fancy Frankish stuff I got for Guinevere. Obviously I couldn't be seen fetching soap to wash my own socks."

"Oh. Yes. Obviously." Merlin shook his head, studying the socks in his hands for a few moments then commented, grudgingly impressed, "Well done."

"What?" asked Arthur, clearly wrongfooted by the warlock's sincere tone.

"I said, well done."

Arthur hesitated. "Really?"

"Yes, really. I never thought I'd see the day when you'd actually manage to do something for yourself. I feel like a proud Papa. I think this calls for a celebration. Maybe we should have Mary bake a cake."

"_Merlin.."_ Arthur growled warningly.

"Seriously, Arthur. I do. And as long as you don't get any strange rashes or sores on your feet from leaving the soap in the wool, I think you've come up with a great way of controlling your stench."

"Maybe my socks always smelled awful because of the substandard washing you gave them."

"No, Arthur. You were right. Your method is superior. Such perils must be met with stronger measures. And anyway, I should have realized how much you would enjoy smelling like the flower garden where the noble ladies enjoy taking their lunches."

He quickly ducked out the door as multiple objects sailed his direction clattering against the wood behind him.

…

One year later…

Arthur looked up from his breakfast as he heard his wife squeal.

"Oh look! Oh how lovely! Arthur come and see!"

The king headed directly to join Guinevere at the window and peered in confusion out past the flowers decorating the windowsill (silently noting the similarly bedecked sills of every window of the castle) and down into the courtyard that was strung with colorful floral garlands. He also spotted acrobats and musicians arriving at the gate.

"What is going on?" he murmured to himself.

A knock came at the chamber door. The queen hurried across the room and threw open the door to reveal a massive bouquet of flowers in the arms of a grinning servant at the threshold.

"Courtesy of Lord Merlin, Your Highness!" the servant practically sang. "Happy Holiday!" He smiled in the direction of the king behind her. "Well done, Your Majesty! Happy Holiday!"

"I just love this holiday!" Guinevere sighed as she gathered the masses of flowers into her arms and nestled her nose among them, sniffing here and there.

Arthur pulled his head back inside and turned around. "What holiday? May Day was last week."

"I'm not really sure, but Merlin knows. In fact, I thought you knew. He mentioned a few days ago that an important new holiday was coming and it required special celebration. He said it marked an important moment in your reign as king and that we should all be very proud of you. Apparently, it's to take place annually exactly one week after May Day and the whole kingdom should celebrate. There's to be feasting, music and dancing in the courtyard. He arranged it all himself. He told me Mary is making an especially huge cake, and the knights are making a banner. He's counting on them to make things perfect. He put Gwaine in charge of making the toast to you in honor of your accomplishment-oh, I shouldn't have said that. I think it was supposed to be a surprise at the feast. Oh Merlin...what a sweet friend. All these gorgeous flowers must be his own doing."

Something itched at the back of Arthur's mind. _A celebration... One week after May Day… Flowers.. _ Arthur's benign expression slid off his face and he paled drastically. _No. He wouldn't. __**Oh yes he would!**_ A red-hot flush scorched his countenance and he ran to the door and flung it open. "**MERLINNNNNNN!**"

Somewhere on the other side of the castle, Merlin finished dropping off bundles of flowers at every door and he paused as he felt a sort of frisson in his soul.

"Uh, enjoy the celebration!" He smiled charmingly at Lady Elys and began to beat a swift retreat. His horse was saddled and waiting. He knew better than to dally. Too bad he'd have to miss the festivities. It was a tough trade but he'd go find Farmgirl and beg her to put him in another one of her stories. He'd be safer there.


End file.
